


Be Careful What You Wish For

by Soule



Category: World of Warcraft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-31
Updated: 2019-01-31
Packaged: 2019-10-20 00:32:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17612030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Soule/pseuds/Soule
Summary: Idk. I was dared to write it. Thanks, Shay.Not canon to ALiP, obviously.





	Be Careful What You Wish For

Aralisse stomped an indignant foot and scowled up at her father. “That's not fair! I want to go on a hunt by myself! I'm old enough!”

 

Koltira merely pressed his lips tightly together--the only sign of his patience wearing thin. “You're only thirty-five.” 

 

“I'm nearly as old as Diori!” 

 

The death knight's thin white brows knit together. “She's over eighty, now. And a pure elf. Compared to her you're still a child.”

 

Aralisse scoffed and folded her arms. “You have no good reason!”

 

“The answer is no.”

 

“Mother! Tell him to let me go!”

 

Anarchaia perked and looked up from her book at her place on the couch. “Honey, let her go,” she droned in response. 

 

“No,” Koltira whispered, eyes still locked on his daughter. 

 

The woman on the couch shrugged and looked back to her story.

 

Aralisse have another loud scoff. “You're the worst! I honestly wish I didn't even have a father!” She threw her hands up in the air and thundered up the stairs. A short beat passed before her door slammed upstairs. 

 

Koltira gave the quietest of sighs, his stiff shoulders slumping. After a moment, he and Anarchaia looked at one another. His long ears perked and she grinned wide. 

 

He spoke first. “Ana, d'you think you can--”

 

_ “Yes.”  _ She was already on her feet, excitement in her lone eye. The book reshelved itself and she rubbed her hands together. “I'll get the charm ready.”

 

The elf grinned mischievously. “This is why I love you.”

 

* * *

 

Aralisse stretched as she sat up in bed. The sunlight caught her eyes just right and she groaned and rubbed at them. With a sigh, she stood and went to the vanity to brush her tangled mess of white hair. 

 

_ I was pretty rude to Father yesterday.  _ Her hand slowed as it worked through the knots. She frowned at her own pale blue face in the mirror.  _ He's just looking out for me. I should apologize.  _ After slipping on a knee-length dress and securing it at her waist with a thin belt, she shrugged on a short cut shawl and stepped into the hallway. Before she could reach the stairwell, she paused. A photograph with a gilded frame hung on the wall, but something was off. What had been a family portrait of her parents, her twin brother, and herself was now just an image of Anarchaia holding two smiling babies--one in each arm. Aralisse scrunched her face and shook her head. 

 

_ Perhaps Mother redecorated.  _ She padded barefoot down the wooden steps. When she reached the kitchen down the hallway and through the foyer, she regarded her brother and mother with a nod of good morning. Anarchaia set a bowl of porridge and peaches in front of her. 

 

“Thank you,” Aralisse said, mouth watering. She took a bite. “No venison sausage?” 

 

Faltora furrowed his brow at his sister, his quill scratching away. “Why would we have that?”

 

Aralisse returned the look. “Father usually brings  _ something _ home before we wake up.”

 

The other two looked at one another. “Darling, are you feeling okay?” Anarchaia lifted a wrist to rest on her daughter's forehead. 

 

Aralisse swatted away the gesture. “Yes. Why? Where is he?”

 

Faltora pursed his lips, concern apparent in his red eyes, then cleared his throat. “Ara, Father died before we were born. You know that…”

 

His sister blinked at him. “Nnnnno, I was just talking with him last night.” She gave incredulous looks to both before her. “We were arguing. He wouldn't...let…” She trailed off when she noticed her mother's face contort with grief. 

 

Anarchaia turned away to hide her fresh tears and threw her apron into the chair as she quickly retreated into the hall. “I'm going to draw you kids a bath,” she choked and her footsteps pattered up the stairs. 

 

Faltora scowled and his parchment and paper set themselves down on the table. “Good going, big mouth,” he snapped and pushed away from the table to follow. 

 

Aralisse gaped after him, jaw slack with confusion. “What did I  _ do?! _ ”

 

After only a couple bites of porridge, her curiosity got the better of her and she hopped down from her chair as well. She stepped to the ice box and opened it; it was filled with fruits, vegetables, and bread--but no meat. She frowned and closed the drawer. She tiptoed back upstairs and closely examined each picture lining the walls in the hall--her father absent from all of them. Panic began welling within her chest and she snuck past the washroom where she could still hear her mother's quiet sobs and her brother's words of reassurance. 

 

She gently pushed open the door to her parents’ room. Her cerulean eyes widened slightly. Her father's sword was gone along with his armor and storage chest. Not even the display racks remained. She turned back into the hall and nervously ran her hands through her hair, twisting the locks in her fingers until the spiral was so tight it pulled at her scalp. 

 

“But…” Aralisse perked suddenly and quickly made her way down the stairs again. Not bothering to put on shoes, she threw open the back door and scampered across the wooden porch toward the barn at the far end of the yard, near the treeline.

 

She grunted as she pushed open the door and practically threw herself inside when it was open just enough for her to squeeze through. “Blood--” She stopped in front of the empty stall. “...--mist.” Her piebald filly gave a quiet whicker from her own stall. Aralisse stepped over to the wooden gate and peered at the pastel blue--nearly white--eyes of the weanling inside. 

 

She reached in to pet her soft auburn mane. “Cinnamon, I think I'm going crazy.”

 

* * *

 

 

Anarchaia gave her two children a small wave. “Going to see what they have at the market in Silvermoon. I'll be back shortly. Don't let anyone in the house.”

 

Faltora nodded absently, not looking up from his studies. Aralisse gave a similar nod, not bothering to look up from the fire as she gazed into it pensively.

 

There was a quiet crackle as the undead woman disappeared. When she rematerialized, she inhaled the scent of the pine trees--strong enough for even herself to smell. She strode into the clearing where a campfire smouldered, smoke puffing up into the morning sky. As she passed a tree, a huff sounded beside her and she cried out and stumbled away several feet. 

 

_ “B-Bloodmist!”  _

 

“You'd think you'd be used to her by now,” Koltira hummed on a laugh as he rounded the small tent with an armful of tinder.

 

“Not when she sneaks up on me like that!”

 

He and the horse looked at one another, then back. “She's hitched.”

 

“You know what I meant,” Anarchaia muttered begrudgingly, folding her arms.

 

The death knight chuckled and threw his kindling into the pit. “How is she?”

 

“Questioning her own sanity. I'm beginning to wonder how ethical this is.” She stepped to his side and watched as he built the sticks into a neat cone.

 

Koltira shook his head. “It builds character. Can't have her growing up taking herself too seriously.” He straightened and dusted his palms off on each other. 

 

Anarchaia pursed her lips to one side. “How much longer? It's been four days. Don't you think that's enough?”

 

Koltira scratched at the small patch of white hair just below his lip, thinking. “Hm. Not quite long enough. Maybe a couple more. Just before she accepts that she's never had a father and never will.”

 

The mage frowned, then wrapped her arms around his cuirass. “But I miss you.”

 

He smiled gently down at her, then placed a kiss atop her head. “Just hold out a short while longer. It'll be worth it to see the look on her face.”

 

A smile twisted its way onto her face and Anarchaia tittered. She nodded. “You're right.” She lifted onto her toes to push a kiss into his lips before pulling away. “Well, better go get some groceries to hold up my alibi.” She waved. “Don't die out here or I'll kill you,” she sang and was gone.

 

He gave Bloodmist a look. “It's like she doesn't even know us.”

 

* * *

 

It had been a week but to Aralisse it'd felt like a month. She'd pored through her diary, but found no evidence of her father. All the jewellery and clothes he'd gifted her were gone. Even the ornate bow he'd carved her by hand was nowhere to be found. She sat at the end of her bed and blankly looked down at the rug below her feet. 

 

_ Was everything a dream? Do I really not have a father? _

 

She brought her knees up to hug them to her chest. She sat there for a long while before perking at the call for breakfast. With a heavy sigh, she slid from her bed and slowly made her way downstairs. On the second to last step she stopped.  _ That smell. _ Hope leapt into her heart and she quickly made her way into the kitchen. 

 

She gave a quiet sob and covered her mouth. Her feet carrying her without thought, she ran across the kitchen and threw her arms around her father's neck.  _ “Father!” _

 

Koltira lowered his fletching and waited a beat before returning the hug. “Uhh...good morning?”

 

Anarchaia set her daughter's breakfast down, venison sausage still sizzling beside a biscuit and fruit. “Ara, what's gotten into you?”

 

But she refused to let go, tears streaming down her cheeks. “I'm so sorry! I said I wish I didn't have a father but I didn't mean it!” 

 

Faltora rolled his eyes. “Ara, stop being so dramatic. It's not cute.”

 

His sister immediately whipped around, now scowling. “How can you say that? Did you not even notice that he was gone?!”

 

Faltora furrowed his brow and the corners of his lips tightened in a judging sneer. “Nnnnno?”

 

Aralisse wiped at her cheek. “But...but he…” She turned back to look at her father, an arm still around him. “But you…” 

 

A smirk slowly crept across Koltira's lips.

 

Aralisse scoffed and pushed away from him. “You!” She turned back to her brother, eyes brimming with anger. “But Fala didn't--” Her eyes finally landed on her mother. She balled her fists and pointed.  _ “You!” _

 

Anarchaia, arms folded and weight on a hip, gave a low, quiet laugh. “Children are the easiest targets for memory charms.”

 

Faltora's eyes widened slightly below a knit brow and his quill scratched to a stop.

 

Aralisse turned back at the sound of her father's laughter. “This family is insane!” she cried and threw her hands up before stomping back toward the hallway. 

 

Koltira picked up his arrow and feathers again and called after her. “Perhaps next time you'll be more careful of what you wish for.” 


End file.
